Better Days: Written Version
by Disturbed Fire
Summary: This is Jay Naylor's 'Better Days' written down. This is directly from the comic, so don't expect anything new.
1. Honest Girls

**Alright, so I want this story on paper for readers to enjoy in words. First off, this story and the characters are all created by Jay Naylor, so I have no rights, and also, I will be following his story line as closely as I can, but if I deem absolutely necessary, I will add small things, just letting you know before hand. I have the main character descriptions at the bottom. Alright, here we go.**

Chapter One: "Honest Girls"

Fisk ran into his sister's room, clutching a piece of paper tightly in his right paw.

"Lucy, I need you to do me a favor." he said, stopping before her.

Lucy looked up from her dolls and dollhouse, her tail twitching.

"Does it involve kneeing you in the balls?" she asked, annoyed.

Fisk ignored her blatant vexation, and continued, "Could you slip this note to Cindy in your gym class tomorrow?"

"Ooh! Does my brother have a CRUSH?" she squealed, shooting up off the floor and mock swooning.

Fisk looked at her square in the eyes, showing no emotion.

"Yes," he said, then spun around and walked out of her room.

Lucy blinked, her brain churning.

"Can you at least PRETEND to be embarrassed? For my sake!" she called after him.

~THE NEXT DAY~

Lucy looked at the slightly wrinkled note in her hands, the carefully hand written name on the front.

"I wish boys would write ME cute love letters," she grumbled, walking across the girls locker room, the note clutched at her stomach. She walked past giggling girls, talking about anything from boys to test scores. Lucy looked back down at the note in her hands.

'Cindy's so popular, she probably gets hundreds of these! What's she got that I can't compete with?' she thought to herself. She walked a few more steps, then heard Cindy in front of her.

'JESUS CHRIST!' she thought, stiffening as she saw Cindy.

Cindy was every boy's dream. She was tall, athletic, and pretty tan cat with great curves, especially considering her age.

"Thanks for making it so blatantly obvious," she mumbled to herself as she walked up to the beautiful cat.

"Hey Cindy..."

"Oh, hey Lucy!" she said, walking to the stall.

"I'm supposed to give–" Lucy began.

"Just a minute, OK?" Cindy interrupted, walking into the stall and locking it behind her with a sharp click.

Lucy leaned against the wall beside the stall, a blank expression on her face.

'How does she get a body like that?' she pondered, 'Maybe she's held back, or maybe it's all the hormones in the milk—'

THPPPHPPHPPHPPPHTHPP!

Lucy jolted back into reality, her eyes shooting wide open.

BMMP!

Lucy looked at the stall in confused astonishment, her tail puffed up in surprise. She could hear Cindy panting heavily inside.

TP-P-P! PHPPppp..

Lucy grabbed her tail and held it close.

pppPPMMP - PHPPP

Lucy started inching away from the stall, looking at it with a look of disgusted confusion on her face.

"She WHAT!" Fisk yelled, glaring at Lucy, "She did not! You're trying to ruin the fantasy!"

"No! Really! I couldn't even deliver the note!" Lucy said between fits of laughter.

Fisk glared at her a second, then sighed.

"Alright then," he said, holding out his hand, "Give me the note back."

"Hee Hee," Lucy giggled, wiping a tear of mirth from her eye.

She thought for a second, then looked back at Fisk with wide eyes.

They stood there for a second, just looking at each other.

"This is the part where you give me the note back," Fisk said, looking at her blankly.

"The note! Right! It's... Ah... Yeah..." she said, checking the stomach pocket of her dress and spinning to look behind herself in panic.

"...somewhere..." she finished quietly.

Fisk shot up into her face, his ears swiveled back.

"You LOST my note!" he shouted.

"I must have dropped it when I ran away from ground zero!" she defended, leaning away from the finger that was pointing at her face.

Fisk did a face palm and grimaced.

"What's the big deal? If somebody finds it, they'll know it's for her!" Lucy said turning her back to him and crossing her arms.

"It doesn't have her NAME on it, 'cuz you're supposed to DELIVER it!" Fisk growled dangerously through clenched teeth.

"Well, the janitor will probably find it on the floor and throw it away anyways," Lucy sassed, sticking her tongue out at him.

~THE NEXT DAY~

"'...with a YERRRRNING heart, I close this letter. Hopefully yours, Fisk.'" A skinny tigress read out, then lead the giggling locker room in a collective 'AWWWWWWW' before they set off in fits of laughter again.

"Hey little guy!"

Fisk turned to see Cinder standing behind him.

"Someone told me your cute note was meant for me?"

"Yeah..." he said, looking away embarrassed.

"Aww!" she said, putting her arm around him.

"Any girl would just ADORE having a smart, sweet, romantic sweet-heart like you." She said, looking at him.

"As for me," she said and pointed at a buff football player standing down the hall, "Do you see that big eighth grader there?"

"Uhh, Yeah..." Fisk said, unsure of where this was going.

"You see," she said, "He's big, meaty, plays football, and is way too thick and stupid to be a threat to my perceived female intellectual superiority. He doesn't challenge me, or do nice things I have to reciprocate. To please him, I just giggle stupidly, shrug my shoulders, and let him fuck my brains out." She said as-a-matter-of-factly, then pranced away, saying, "Thanks for feeding my ditz ego! Chao!" leaving Fisk blinking, confused.

~LATER THAT NIGHT~

Sheila, Fisk's and Lucy's mom was sitting at the table enjoying a cup of hot chocolate and some toast before bed. Fisk walked in and stood behind her chair stoically, his eyebrows creased thoughtfully and his hands in his pockets.

She waited patiently for Fisk to speak up, taking a sip of her coco.

Fisk looked up, saying, "Mom, what does 'Fuck my brains out' mean?"

Needless to say, Sheila painted the table with coco.

**Done. If you want to find the origional comic, look up 'Better Days' (duh), but don't be discouraged by the seemingly inappropriate description box. It is all clean, and, I think, very inspiring. **

** Please tell me if you liked it, cuz it took me forever to transfer the texts over and decide how to say everything else. If you want more, please tell, cuz I've got a long, long ways to go.**

**CHARACTERS:**

**Fisk Black- A black and white cat, son of Shiela, I'm guessing in sixth grade for this time span.**

**Lucy Black- Fisk's twin sister, daughter of Shiela, the same grade as Fisk. She is also black and white, but in different spots.**

**Shiela Black- Fisk and Lucy's mother, white, beautiful, great curvs, single (Mr. Black died in the war)**

**I won't put unimportant characters in this section, so look for their descriptions in the story.**


	2. How To Impress

**Here** **goes another one!**

* * *

It was a beautiful afternoon. Not too hot, not too cold, but warm, with a slight breeze. The type of day anybody would like to do nothing more than sit back and relax...

"YOU! I told you to stay away from my daughter! Out! Out! Oh-dubuya-tee, OUT!"

A large tan cat woman was yelling at Fisk, smacking him with a broom as she chased out of the door. A pretty little white cat was watching the scene spread out before her from the window above, her elbows resting on the frame, and her head propped up in her hands.

As the angry woman chased Fisk to the curb (with her broom), while yelling, "And stay out of that tree by her window!" giving him one last smack on the butt as he escaped.

She stormed back through the front door of her house, slamming it behind her.

"Geez!" Fisk grumbled, glaring at the door. His ears were back and he was ribbing his stinging butt.

"Female brains must get smaller as their hips get bigger..."

* * *

**~LATER THAT DAY~**

Lucy was looking forward to getting in the pool. It was hot outside, and there was nothing else to do, so why not? She had gotten her one piece swimsuit and grabbed her floaty so she wouldn't get too board in the pool.

When she walked out her back door, she was surprised to see Fisk in the pool, sprawled all the way across the small blow-up tub. She walked closer, holding her floaty up, which was around her waist. She stood at the edge of the pool and looked at Fisk's sullen expression.

"Hey!" she said, trying to get his attention. He acknowledged her with a flick of his ears.

"Why are you hogging the pool? I thought you you were spending the day with Jenny?"

"Got kicked out." he grumbled, not even looking up from glaring at the tree in front of him.

"You know, Fisk," Lucy said, pushing on his arm, which was laying on the side of the pool, trying to got him to move it, "You should work on impressing Jenny's parents."

Fisk moved his arms, crossing them in front of his bare chest. Lucy took off her floaty and sat on the edge of the blowup pool, arranging the floaty on Fisk's head, like a hat.

"I read in church that when David wanted one of King Saul's daughters, Saul sent him to produce the foreskins of 100 slain Philistines, hoping David would be killed. David loved his girl so much, he presented the king with 200 foreskins! He got the girl." she said, nodding affirmatively.

Fisk, who still wasn't moving, even though the floaty was falling off, glanced up at her, saying, "What the hell is a foreskin?"

Lucy stood from her seat, facing away from Fisk and crossing her arms.

"That's not the point," she said.

* * *

Lucy was sitting on one of the counters in the kitchen with her legs crossed and hitting them against the doors beneath her. Her mother walked into the room, dressed in a tank top, a tight skirt with a belt, and high heels.

"Lucy, where's your brother?" She inquired while putting in her earring, causing the two bracelets she had on her wrist to jangle.

"Hey, mom." Lucy said, looking up from her banging, "I think he's out trying to impress Jenny's parents."

"That crazy boy," she said, exasperated, as she looked in a small makeup mirror, applying blush to her cheekfur, "He's going to waste his whole life chasing girls. I think he gets his prowling from his father."

DING! DONG!

"Oh! There's my date!" Sheila exclaimed, shooting up and dropping her makeup into her purse, slinging that around her shoulder. She clacked her way to the door with her high heels, calling cheerfully over her shoulder, "If I'm not home by midnight, put yourself to bed!"

Lucy watched her all the way out the door, an unimpressed look on her face.

* * *

Elizabeth, the little mouse from down the street, was playing dolls in the yard with Lucy, dressed in her usual glasses, jorts, and tee-shirt. They were giggling and playing with the dolls when Elizabeth noticed a faint squeaking sound. She looked up to find its source.

"Lucy," she said, pointing, "What's your brother doing with your wagon?"

Lucy looked over and saw Fisk, just wtalking down the sidewalk, a smug grin on his face and his tail up proudly as he pulled their wagon along behind him, full of... Something.

There were flies circling the wagon, which was dripping red.

"That looks suspiciously like a pile of fresh foreskins." Elizabeth said, watching Fisk through her large glasses.

Lucy covered her face with both hands in embarassment.

"Oh. My. God." was all she could say.

She got up off the grass and jogged over, stopping in front of him.

"Fisk! Where did you get... THOSE?" she said, putting her hand on her stomach and sticking her tongue out.

Fisk looked up at her with a smile.

"Cool, huh?" he said looking back at the wagon.

"No," Lucy said, disgusted.

Fisk scooted closer to her and put his hand by his mouth, whispering into her ear, "They're just shredded pig skins I got from the butcher shop. I heard Jenny's dad complaining about lawyers, so I'm going to tell him these are their foreskins."

He moved back, grinning and looking to her for approval.

Lucy looked back at the wagon and took a small step back, putting her hands behind her back and saying, "Those stray dogs sure look impressed."

Fisk's eyes widened and he spun around, his tail proofing up when he saw them.

"Oh damn! Quick! Run home and get my BB gun!"

* * *

Sheila giggled as the man behind her gripped her breast and kissed her neck.

BRIIIIING! The phone rang shrilly on the table beside the bed they were in.

"Mmm," he murmured, "Let it ring."

"I can't," she said, regretfully pulling away from him, "It might be my kids."

he settled back down on the bed, laying on his back with his arms behind his head and a smile on his face. His eyes were closed as he relaxed waiting for the call to be over.

"What! Dog attack? Hospital!" Sheila exclaimed.

His eyes opened slightly at this, his brows creased somewhat.

"RAIBIES!

His eyes went wide at the disbelief in her voice.

* * *

Fisk was sitting on the medical table, his arms crossed and glaring at the ground.

"Fisk's had all his shots, as a precaution, and the lad's going to be fine." the doctor said, smiling.

"Thank you," Sheila said, looking at Fisk seriously, "He is in big trouble."

Fisk's eyes shot up.

"What'd I do?" he cried indignantly at his mom.

She turned and gave him the evil eye, saying, "Lucy told me all about your little hair brained stunt with a wagonload of PORK." Fisk was leaning away, glaring at her with his ears back.

"You ruined a nice evening for your mother," she continued, "And DON'T you lay your ears at ME when I'm talking to you!"

Fisk turned his back to them, and said over his shoulder, "I'll have you know, those were the foreskins of slain lawyers. I was on my way to Jenny's house to impress her dad when I was ambushed!"

Sheila was looking at Fisk with pursed lips, giving him an unimpressed look. The doctor was looking between Fisk and his mother, blinking in confusion.

"I can write you a referral to a good child psychologist..." The doctor ventured, looking at Mrs. Black, who had her hand on her hip, giving Fisk a 'You're in trouble, Mr.' look.

"God, you people!" Fisk tsked, his arms still crossed and him still looking away.

* * *

**Well... That scene was a bit awkward... Anyway, I kind of like doing these, so I plan on doing more, at the expense of the only other story I have going on right now. If you like how I'm doing this, please tell, cuz encouragement does more than most of you know.**


	3. My Sister's Keeper

It was a Saturday morning like most others at the Black's household that day. Fisk was sitting on the couch in front of the TV, eating dry cereal right out of the box with a spoon.

"Fisk, honey," Sheila said as she strode into the room dressed in a white tank top and leather jacket, with a tight black skirt that only went to her thighs, and knee high boots, her purse in hand, "I'm going to spend the day with friends. There's several phone numbers on the Fridge if you need me."

"Okay, mom," Fisk said, not even looking up from the TV as he scooped another spoonful of cereal from the box.

"Where's Lucy?" his mom asked as she stopped behind the couch. Fisk popped the spoon into his mouth and started crunching.

"Still asleep," Fisk mumbled through his munching.

"Save her some cereal, okay?" Sheila said as she turned and walked out of the room.

Fisk looked down at the box in his lap and, after a moments hesitation, picked it up and flipped it upside down, shaking it. Only a few crumbs fell out.

"Hey Lucy!" Fisk called as he poked his head through her door, looking at the lump on the bed, "I ate all the cereal, but I got you a pear, and half a pop-tart, and... Woah. You look rough." he said, walking up to her bed.

Lucy lifted her head off the pillow slightly and looked at him with her eyes more-or-less closed, croaking, "I feel sick."

"SICK!" he yelled in disbelief, "You CAN'T be sick! Mom's going to be gone all day!"

Fisk turned for a second and thought.

"Hmm... Well," he said, brightening, "Lucky for you, I want to become a doctor when I grow up!"

Lucy groaned and laid back down, pulling the sheets over her head and croaking, "You stay away from me."

It had been five minutes since Fisk had found that Lucy was sick, and in that time, he had run down the hall and grabbed the Big Book of Sicknesses from his mom's room.

Lucy was curled up on her side, sleeping, while Fisk was leaning on her bed and looking through the book, saying, "I bet I can figure up what disease you have, other than just girl germs."

Lucy just croaked.

After a minute or two of silence and page turning, Fisk spoke up.

"I think you may have syphilis." he said in a professional tone.

"What's that?" Lucy croaked curiously, raising her head a little.

She watched as Fisk turned back to the book and looked for another few seconds.

"Woah..." he said, surprised, "Maybe not."

"Gimme that!" Lucy said, her ears back as she reached for the book.

"You've got the orange juice?" Sheila's voice sounded over the phone.

"Yeah mom, I got it," Fisk said, carrying a glass of orange juice in his hand, the phone between his head and shoulder, the cord stretching out behind him.

"Go to my medicine cabinet," Mrs. Black said, "You should find some store brand decongestant."

"What do they look like?" Fisk said when he arrived at the bathroom.

He reached up and opened the cabinet while his mom told him they were red.

He rummaged around a moment, scouring the cabin ate for the red capsules his mom was talking about.

"Alright," he said triumphantly, grabbing the round, flat plastic case.

"I've got some inside a little round calendar," he said, popping it open.

"No honey... Put those back."

"Found some!" he called triumphantly after putting the other case down.

"Good. Give her one and let her sleep. It'll make her drowsy."

"Okay," Fisk said, the juice and pills in one arm, and the phone in the other. He started to walk out of the room, but the telephone cord, which had been wrapping around him, tightened, leaving him trapped.

'Fuck' he thought as he nearly dropped the phone.

"Mmmmm!" Sheila hummed as she sweeped into the room.

"Hey baby. I'm back. How's Lucy?" she asked dropping her purse and walking past the couch, which Fisk was sitting on again, watching TV and munching on a bag chips.

"Still asleep," he replied, grabbing another handful of chips from the bag.

"I'm gong to go check on her," she said, walks down the hall.

Fisk picked up his glass of milk from the coffee table and started to drink.

"EEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"

Fisk choked on the milk, coughing into the glass and shooting milk everywhere.

He got up after catching his breath, and jogged down the hall to see what the commotion was about. As he approached Lucy's room, he heard his mom shouting.

"She's out COLD! Her pulse is VERY faint! Get someone over here FAST!"

Fisk peeked in the doorway and saw his mom with the phone in hand, pacing the room restlessly, fear in her eyes and tears streaking her cheek fur.

"Oh God... I think my son mistook blood pressure mess for cold medicine. I just found the box..." Fisk could hear the fear and shock in her voice.

He pulled his head around the doorway, standing against the wall outside of Lucy's room, his hand on his chest as his pulse and reach quickened as he realized what that meant.

"Of course I... I don't know how long! Just hurry! Before she DIES, GOD DAMMIT!"

Fisk was still in the hallway, his hand on his head and his eyes wide in fear. He felt like throwing up. He leaned back against the wall behind him and slid down to the floor, his hands still on his head, his ears laid back.

"I CAN'T stay calm! She's fucking DYING!" Sheila screamed into the phone, "What? Okay... N-no. Her ears are still pink. It feels like she's breathing, but it's shallow... Jesus Christ..."

Fisk was still outside the doorway, crouched against the wall, tears dripping down from his cheeks to the floor, as he shook his head in disbelief, shaking silently.

The doctor walked out of Lucy's room, his clipboard under his arm. He was a thin, tan cat, dressed in a crisp green uniform, making him look professional. He was very calm as he walked out of Lucy's bedroom, turning to Mrs. Black and saying, "She's stable for now. If she keeps doing well, I think she'll be fine."

Sheila, who was leaning against the wall outside of the door, was crying, with tears streaking her cheek fur. She was hugging herself with one hand while the other was on top of her head, still trying to deal with the shock that her daughter had nearly died.

"O-okay..." she replied shakily, trying not to burst into tears again.

The doctor nodded reassuringly and started walking to the door.

"We're on our way," he said into the radio strapped to his shoulder.

Sheila watched him leave, and when he had left, she moved both hands to her stomach, trying to quell the quivering. She stood in silence for a few moments, until she herd a sniff beside her. She looked down at Fisk, who was crouched by the wall, crying into his arms.

She crouched down and pulled Fisk into a tight hug, trying to comfort him. His shaking body barely reacted to her touch, but when he felt her, he started crying harder.

"I'm s-sorry," he choked out through sobs.

"Sh-Sh-Shh. Mama should have been home, baby." she said, trying to get him to stop crying, even though she was a wreck as well.

She pulled him even tighter and put her cheek on the top of his head.

"Let's go to the hospital," she said shakily.

"I'm here to check on Lucy Black," Sheila said to the hyena woman at the front desk.

"How you spell it?" the woman asked politely, turning to grab a clipboard.

Sheila raised an eyebrow skeptically.

"How do you spell 'Black'?" she asked.

"Yes, m'rm, that's what I axed." the hyena said patiently, picking up the clipboard she had been looking for.

Sheila rolled her eyes and leaned against the desk.

"Bee... Ell... Aa... See... Kay..." she said, spelling it out for the hyena woman to write down.

"Mmm, yis," the Hyena said, "The little girl. She's in intensive care, bein' watched. We can't let jus' anybody see her."

Sheila spun around to look at the hyena.

"Just ANYBODY?" she asked, irritated, "I'm her MOTHER. What do I look like?"

She stood there for a moment, then held up her hand and sighed, closing her eyes.

"Don't answer that," she said wearily.

"Mmm-hmm," the hyena woman said distractedly, turning back to her work.

Sheila walked back to her seat next to Fisk in the waiting room. She sat down heavily, the worry showing on her face. She turned to look at her son.

Fisk was glaring at the floor in front of himself, trying not to cry.

Sheila rubbed his back, trying to comfort him.

"We can go see Lucy now, Fisk." she said softly.

Fisk looked away from his mom.

"I don't know." he said, sniffling softly, "I messed up so bad. I've never felt this horrible in my life and I don't want to feel worse. I should be the one dying..."

Sheila looked sharply at Fisk, her eyebrow raised.

"...I'm the one who screwed up, not Lucy." a single tear formed in the corner of his eye.

"Look Fisk. Look at me..." Sheila said, grabbing Fisk by the chin and made him look her in the eye.

"I was carrying you and Lucy when your father died. It was a hard decision to bring you into this world after that, against a lot of advice and pressure. I fought hard to raise you and I'm not going to lose a kitten tonight. Not Lucy, not you..." she put both hands on his face and held him there, making him keep looking her in the eye.

"This is NOT your fault. She's MY little girl and MY responsibility." she said forcefully, "She's NOT dead, she's in the hospital, and you've got to be strong, kitten..."

The tear started to trickle down Fisk's cheek, leaving a trail of wet fur. Sheila saw this and wiped it up with her thumb.

"You're the only man in this family and Lucy needs your strength. I don't care what those feminist BITCHES teach you in school, strength means a HELL of a lot..."

The hospital bed was white. White sheets, white mattress, white pillow. It was in a small white room, and only two people were in it, accompanied by a small beeping machine. Lucy was one of the two, and was attached to the machine by a small cord taped to her wrist.

Lucy herself looked horrible. She was disheveled and had bags under her eyes, which were closed as she slept. The other person in the room was Fisk. He wasn't doing much better than Lucy, though. His fairly short fur was unkept, and his cheeks were matted from crying. At the moment, he was sitting on a chair beside Lucy's bed, resting his head on his arms and sleeping.

Sheila was looking in on this scene as she stood outside the closed door, looking through the window. The doctor from before was standing beside her, checking his clipboard and occasionally glancing over at Sheila.

"Should I tell him visiting hours are over with?" she asked quietly, not looking away from the window.

"I think he'll be okay for the night," the doctor said, looking up from his clipboard.

'I'm not really the best kid. I rarely come foreword and talk to you, and I can understand if you think it's only if I want something.' Fisk thought, staring blankly at the sheets under his arms.

'I don't want to be vain, or come to you because I feel guilty. Up until now, I've just been a foolish little kid. I don't know how to prove my sincerity, other than to ask for a moment of trust, and I'll trust your judgement no matter how it turns...' he sighed and leaned his head against his hand.

'It'd be too easy for me to beg for me to beg for myself, because I feel guilty, and I want all this pain to go away. I don't care what I go through anymore, and I won't bother you with the selfish wishes of another foolish sinner. There are people with real problems, like Lucy. Lucy doesn't deserve to die. She never messed up. Im not the best brother, but I never realized how much I would miss her. Not because of guilt, or fear of being punished... But...' Fisk started shaking as he sobbed silently.

'...I realize I love my sister so much.'

He dropped his head into the crook of his arm and started quietly crying, shaking silently.

"Fisk, why are you crying?" a voice asked weakly.

"S-shut up. I'm trying to pray," Fisk replied shakily.

"Woah! How sick was I?" The voice said, gaining strength.

Fisk's head shot up, his ears perked in realization.

"LUCY!" he yelled, jumping up.

"C'mere!" he said, grabbing his sister and pulling her off bed into a big hug.

"Hey!" she yelled in surprise.

They stood there a moment, Fisk hugging her tightly, his eyes closed tight.

"Was it that bad?" Lucy asked, looking at the condition he was in.

"I don't want to talk about it now." he replied, happily.

Fisk was sitting on the step outside the front door of the house, his arms crossed on his knees and his chin resting on his arms. He was staring out into space emotionlessly.

The door behind him creaked open and he heard someone walk out and shut the door behind them. The person stood there a moment, not saying anything, then, "Fisk, mom told me what happened."

"Ah.." Fisk said quietly, still looking in front of him.

"Don't feel bad," Lucy said, kneeling down behind him and scratching him behind the ear and on the side of the neck, "I think you're a good brother just for being there."

"Mmm," Fisk murmured.

Lucy stopped scratching and scooted over to sit on the step beside him. They sat there awkwardly for a moment, both staring out in different directions.

"Were you really all worried and crying and stuff? Lucy asked, looking at him teasingly.

"Ahem..." Fisk said into his hand, looking away innocently, "Not so loud."

* * *

**I'm glad I finally got this done, but I almost feel like nobody is reading this, so if you're interested, please comment about anything, just let me know somebody's reading so I know I'm at least taking time off my other story for a legit reason. If you don't like, please don't comment, or at least bash my writing, I don't care. If you have suggestions of any kinds, please tell. Thanks.**


	4. The Bedbutter Chronicles

**Health Test tomorrow... Over the anatomy of the human reproductive system... *shudder* I think I need a break from that... So I will write.**

* * *

Fisk was trapped. Trapped in a place of no escape. In this place, everything is wrong. You lose everything you have to psychotic beings, who's only point for existence is to make life hell. To punish children for twelve years and more. A place where...

"Good morning class," An aged skinny brown cat with large eyes and stiff posture stood in front of the class, her chin in the air, holding the lesson plan for the day in front of her. She was dressed in a button down shirt and a skirt, and a small jacket sporting a pin that said 'Carter for President '80'

"Bear with me this morning," she said in a more or less passive commanding tone, "I'm rather tired. I was up all night watching the Democratic National Convention."

She lowered her head and smiled at the class in giddy happiness, "I think our Georgia boy is going to do it again! If he loses, I could just die!"

Fisk rolled his eyes and turned his head sideways so he could mumble under his breath to himself.

"Yeesh, don't do us any favors..." he said quietly.

The only thing he hadn't realized was that the classroom was perfectly quiet when he said this.

There was a collective gasp that surrounded him. Everybody in the room was turned and looking at him with wide eyes and covered mouths. There was a deafening silence and Fisk's eyes widened as he realized what just happened.

'Oh great, here it comes,' he thought to himself.

* * *

"Starting the morning off early, Fisk?" Principal Longfellow said as he peered around the office door to see who was knocking. Fisk just sighed and walked in.

* * *

"What'd you think of the Japanese Whalers we saw in the film, class?" Mrs. Bedbutter, Fisk's teacher, said to the class after they finished watching the film for that day.

"BAAAD!" "Nooooooo Goooooood!" "Dey Suck!" the students called out all at the same time in an overwhelming wave of sound, nearly causing Fisk to jump out of his seat as he was blown out of his doze.

Mrs. Bedbutter started walking around the classroom, handing out rubrics.

"Were going to write the largest Japanese whaling company, as a class, and tell them what we think," She said commandingly, a look of stiff pride remaining with her at all times, "This will be a fine class activity, so please take it seriously..."

Fisk rolled his eyes and looked at his rubric blankly as it was handed back to him. He sat there looking at it for a second, then smiled, and got busy.

'Dear Japanese Whaler Folks,' he wrote on his blank sheet of paper.

'My teacher keeps saying America is bad, and we should look to others for reform and diversity and she has our class thinking you suck.

I think whaling sounds pretty neat. Do you use every part of the whale? Like the Indians? What do you do with the face? I bet you could feed an African country for a year with one big-ass whale.'

He went on writing, being curious and innovative with his work, when suddenly he heard his teacher, "'HEM"...

The face of the devil himself was looming over him with a menacing glare.

* * *

Sheila was home, adding the flower-yeast mixture to water and stirring, preparing to make dough. She was wearing her regular around-the-house clothes; a tee shirt, which was pink, and tight blue jeans. Whilst she was cooking, she had also put on her apron so her clothes wouldn't get flower on them.

She was beating the mixture together with a large wooden spoon when the phone rang.

BRIING!

She brought the spoon up and tasted it as her other hand reached over and grabbed the phone.

"Hello?" she asked, putting the phone between her ear and shoulder as she wiped her hands off on a dish cloth.

"Hello, is this Sheila Black?" the voice on the other end asked formally.

"This is she," Sheila replied, not caring much for the formalities.

"This is Eunice Bedbutter, Fisk's teacher," the voice said.

"Oh," said Sheila, not really impressed by the snobbish tone on the other end, "Hi,"

"I'd like to arrange a meeting to discuss Fisk's classroom behavior," Mrs. Bedbutter said as-a-matter-of-factly.

"Oh dear," Sheila said, sighing, "What's the problem?"

The timer she had set on the stove went off with a loud DING!

"He's not taking his assignments seriously, and I have paper after paper of his, where he makes sarcastic remarks on his assignments," Mrs. Bedbutter explained/complained, a whiny kind of tone seeping into her voice.

"I wasn't aware," Sheila said, bending over to pull her pie out of the oven with the oven-mitts on hand.

"Are you surprised by this?" the teacher asked, drawing out the 'surprised' sarcastically.

"Well... No, but—"

"Then perhaps I'll see you this afternoon?" Mrs. Bedbutter interrupted with a commanding question **[because I don't know what else to call it]**.

* * *

Sheila walked into the school in her high heels, aware of everybody looking at her in her professional looking brown skirt and button up jacket. The men were looking with raised eyebrows and small smiles, while the other women in the building were watching with reproachful glares.

Sheila walked by all of this with her eyes forward and a purpose to her step. She walked to the second classroom from the end on the right, and walked in.

"Hello," she said politely, looking at the brown cat seated at the desk before her, "Are you Mrs. Bedbutter?"

"Oh!" said Mrs. Bedbutter, looking up and seeing the beautiful white cat before her, bringing a paw up to cover her mouth, "In the name of Susan B. Anthony..." she said with surprise.

"Who?" Sheila asked, leaning up against the desk Mrs. Bedbutter was sitting at.

"Oh!" Mrs. Bedbutter cried out standing up and putting the back of her hand to her forehead as if struck by distress, "By the GHODZ..."

* * *

"Eh-hem. Now then. I've saved Fisk's work so that you may go over it, after which, we may work out a plan, for school and home, that will make him form a more serious attitude about his work," Mrs. Bedbutter said, stacking the sheaf of papers in front of her, "I think you'll find his writings rather combative toward the subjects at hand,"

She handed Sheila the stack, and sat there watching as Sheila went through them.

"Hmm..." Sheila murmured as she shuffled through the papers. They all seemed to have an agenda, like how america is bad because it held onto slavery longer than most other countries, or why president Jimmy Carter was good.

Fisk on the other hand, seemed to be writing about why we did these things, or that it took time to convince us to get rid of it, or that, just becausesomeone was from their state, it doesn't mean they're good, and that the actions should be the judge of that.

There was one paper in particular that caught Sheila's eye, though.

'Americas Crimes' it was titled.

'I don't think we're a bad country. My dad died defending people from invaders who wanted to take their freedom and property. Some people say this is bad, but I have a reason to really love my dad, even though I never knew him, personally. Only a great country would protect its...'

It went on like this, and Sheila read it with a touched heart. She had loved her husband with all of her heart and soul. To see her son loved him too only touched her deeper.

With this, she finally decided to speak her mind.

"I'm sorry," she said with obvious disrespect, "Did you say there was a problem?"

"Honestly, Mrs. Bedbutter," she said, standing up, "I don't see anything here but opinions stemming from some kind of sick political indoctrination,"

She moved to stand behind her seat and pushed it in, saying, "I don't see how his views conflict with his academic studies. I find this whole ordeal to be a big waste of my time, and I think I'll be going."

She turned and started walking out of the classroom.

"MS. BLACK," called Mrs. Bedbutter calmly from her desk, causing Sheila to stop and listen over her shoulder a moment "We have a social contract as teachers and as women to help our children develop a social awareness and attitude befitting a more ENLIGHTENED culture. It's not the 1950's anymore."

Sheila stopped listening and started walking to the door.

"Especially these young men." Mrs. Bedbutter continued, undeterred, "Their outlook must be tempered so girls won't have to dress like their mothers and advance through life by their BACKSIDES."

Sheila stopped dead before the door, and processed what Mrs. Bedbutter had just said.

Then she turned around.

Her body was tense and her eyes were wide, glaring at the insignificant nothing sitting before her with the intensity of a thousand suns. The whole room seemed to shrink and grow hotter, as if a raging fire was just set forth.

She cleared the distance between the door and the desk in a few steps, not caring for posture anymore, and she slammed her hands on the table.

"I beg your pardon!" she shouted, her eyes narrowed to slits, and her ears laid back against her hair, "I don't give a FUCK about your social engineering projects, but don't you DARE insult how I look OR LIVE!"

Mrs. Bedbutter's eyes were wide, and she was leaning back, trying to get away from the newly turned demoness in front of her.

"Ms. Black—"

"SHUT UP!" Sheila bellowed, "You'll teach Fisk math, science, and REAL history! If he so much as chews gum or talks in class, I'll beat his little ass, myself! But DON'T waste my time with BULLSHIT like this!"

Her demeanor suddenly iced over, and she leaned right up into Mrs. Bedbutters face, saying, "I have to go home and Finish baking for my kids. After that, I'll send them to bed, I may just invite a man over, feed him too, and give him such a hard orgasm, he won't be able to walk till morning."

"BECAUSE IM A WOMAN! AND IT'S MY FICKING RIGHT!" the tension in the room just exploded again, like a cigarette thrown on gasoline.

Sheila spun around and stormed out of the room, leaving Mrs. Bedbutter in her chair, only on two legs, leaning against the wall from leaning back so far. Mrs. Bedbutter herself wasn't doing too good herself. She was wide eyed and quivering, her glasses hanging off one ear.

Sheila walked out from the classroom swiftly, the tension and anger still clear in her stride.

"Ah! Ms. Black!" she heard a voice call from behind her.

"What." she growled icily.

"I overheard your conversation with Bedbutter, and as the principal, I want to apologize for the school. I hate seeing parents angry." said the man standing behind her.

Sheila turned her head and looked at the handsome cat behind her. He was in a formal grey suit, but somehow made it look almost casual. His grey fur was striped with black, and his cheeks had black spots on them.

"I have to ask," he said, looking at her with one hand in his pocket and his head tilted slightly, "Was the orgasm remark really necessary?"

Sheila raised her eyebrows slightly and turned to face him.

"Why? Interested?" she asked innocently.

"Would that be appropriate?" he asked, his eyebrows slightly creased.

"No?" Sheila said grabbing and holding up his paw, showing its ringlessness, "You're obviously not married,"

"Ah," he said appreciatively, "You're sharp. Divorced."

Sheila flashed him a smile and turned around again heading for the door.

"Thanks for the apology, but I must be getting home," she said over her shoulder, "Otherwise, I'd love to chat further, mister...?"

"Longfellow,"

"Right..."

* * *

There was a click as Ms. Black closed the door to their house behind her. Fisk heard this and jumped up from the couch, running into the foyer and pleading desperately, "Mom, don't listen to Mrs. Bedbutter! She hates me because I don't like Jimmy Carter, and she's always stacking the deck against me, and—"

"I wouldn't worry about her anymore, sweetie. Dinner will be ready in fifteen minutes." Sheila interrupted.

"Oh," Fisk said, and shrugged, turning to leave the room.

"Principal Longfellow called," Lucy said, walking in with a notebook and pencil as Ms. Black took off and hung up her jacket.

"Oh?" Sheila asked, remembering the handsome young cat.

"Six times," she continued, writing something down.

Sheila smiled into the closet.

"Bedtimes at eight tonight kids!" she exclaimed.

Lucy stopped mid scribble, and both the twins blinked in surprise and turned to look at their mother.

"What the hell?" Fisk said angrily, crossing his arms.

"These events are related, somehow," Lucy said, putting her hand to her chin and biting her lip thoughtfully.

* * *

**Yay for being done! Thank you to you reviewers, you sparked my interest to keep going! This next chapter is kinda awkward, nasty, and will be skimped out on major detail at one part, so I hope you aren't offended. I will still be following the story line EXACTLY for this story, though.**

**...I think I kind of gave up on the character list at some point, but I'm not gunna bring it back...**


	5. Predators

"Don't take this the wrong way Harve. I didn't expect these kinds of nights from my kids' school principal. It's been a very extravagant week," said Sheila, who was sitting across a very fancy restaurant table from Harvey Longfellow, the Principal of her kids school.

Sheila was dressed in a long emerald green dress, and golden earrings. They were sitting at a small table waiting for their meal. The tabby sitting across from her was dressed in an expensive jacket, with a clean, very white shirt beneath.

"Well," he said smiling at her, his hand resting on the table near hers, "I'm single and have all my assets intact. Despite the divorce, I'm not exactly scraping."

Sheila leaned back away from the table and crossed her arms, but her voice was playful, "I'm just a country girl. You'll run the risk of spoiling me,"

"On the contrary," Mr. Longfellow said, his voice just as playful, "I feel like I'm the one being spoiled,"

Sheila felt her cheeks flush and turned her head modestly, smiling, "You're laying it on thick. I haven't blushed in years."

"Your husband was right. It's when you're most beautiful," He said smiling.

Sheila's eyes opened as she realized what she just heard. She felt an ache in her heart for her deceased husband, and just stared down at the floor for a few seconds. Harvey pulled his hand away from hers and picked up his wine glass, taking a sip.

"You knew Jim?" Sheila asked, her voice doing a good job of covering the hurt she was feeling.

"Mmm?" Harvey said around his glass. He set the glass down by his empty plate and looked up at her.

"We were in the same unit during the war. I didn't mention it sooner because I didn't know if you wanted to go into it," he said, his smile dropping, replaced with a serious expression.

"Oh my god," Sheila whispered quietly, "What was it like?"

"From day to day it was just survival. We were all wrapped up in thinking we could die the next time out, so we lived each minute like it could be one of the last ones..."

The waiter arrived with their food and presented them with their meals with a flourish and a small bow.

Harvey looked down at this food with unseeing eyes and continued quietly, "Vietnam went in cycles, back and forth between duty, and trying to distract ourselves from it by losing ourselves in drinking, women, and pranks."

Sheila giggled quietly, smiling a little, saying, "Well, I guess Jim never had to lose himself in WOMEN."

Harvey's mouth stayed closed and he just looked down at his plate of food.

Sheila's smile dropped, and she looked at Harvey, distraught, "This is the part where you are supposed to be reassuring."

Harvey eyes darted everywhere but at Sheila.

"Harve!" she said, distressed, "You're not serious! Jim was like that?"

Her ears were set back in sadness, and her eyes held an agony very few know.

"Sheila..." Harvey said simp sympathetically, "I didn't want the conversation to go this way, but I don't think it would be healthy to lie to you."

He reached across the table and grabbed her paws gently, trying to comfort her.

"It was almost nine years ago. I can't say Jim wouldn't have made a great father if he'd made it home..."

Sheila pulled her paws away slowly, standing from her chair, trying to keep the tears from her eyes.

"I think I need to go home for now. I've got a lot of thinking to do... Thank you," she said, her voice wavering.

She stood from her chair and walked out of the busy restaurant, seeming deflated.

* * *

"Third army force command, General Beck's office," a voice answered politely over the telephone.

"Um... I was looking for General Kelso," Sheila replied hesitantly, twisting her finger in the curly telephone wire.

Sheila was standing in the kitchen, wearing her old navy green 'Army Wife' tee shirt with jeans.

"He's no longer working at this office. Would you like his new number?" the voice on the other end replied after a pause.

"Yes please," Sheila said, walking over to a drawer and pulling out a pencil and scrap piece of paper.

The monotone voice on the other end gave her a phone number as she wrote it down, "Okay. Alright... Think you."

"Have a nice day," the voice on the other end said, still not showing much emotion.

"Mmm-hmm, buh-bye," Sheila said, distractedly.

She heard the sound of the phone clicking on the other end, and heard the dial tone. She pressed the hang-up button and started dialing the number she had been given. The phone rang for a moment before a female voice picked up.

"Central Intelligence Agency, Operations Devision," the voice said professionally.

"Uh... I'm trying to talk to gen- I mean, Robert Kelso. His old office gave me this number..." Sheila wasn't very comfortable on the phone, talking to somebody she didn't know.

"May I ask who's calling?" the voice asked politely.

"Sheila Black. I'm an old friend," sheila said, smiling as she remembered the black panther.

There was a click on the other end of the line, and a familiar voice asked, "Sheila?"

"General!" Sheila said happily.

"Heh," Kelso laughed wearily, "Not anymore..."

Sheila suddenly felt weak on her feet as the moment of truth approached. She walked out into her living room and laid down on the couch, fearing what would come next.

"I kind of have a silly question. It's the reason I called..."

"Don't be silly. Ask," Kelso replied warmly.

Sheila was getting nervous, "Was Jim... Faithful, during his time overseas?"

"Of course he was," Kelso replied immediately, "I can vouch for that, personally."

"Rob, please," Sheila said, closing her eyes and resigning to her fate, "Don't hold back. I have to know who I can trust."

"You're like family, Sheila," he said softly, "I'd never lie to you. Who told you this?"

"Someone who was in Jim's unit, that I've been seeing. Harvey Longfellow. I think he was a sergeant.

Kelso was silent for a moment.

"I never had a 'Longfellow' under my command..." he said quietly.

Sheila's eyes snapped open.

"Tabby colors? Black hair? Are you sure?" she questioned him in rapid fire.

"I was only a major then. We had very small units in our types of... Operations. I can assure you I remember every man in my unit," Kelso was confident in his words, and Sheila believed him.

"Jesus..." she said, closing her eyes and creasing her eyebrows in disbelief. How could Harvey do this to her?

"Look," Kelso said, interrupting her train of thought, "I've got a meeting at the CDC this weekend, so I'll be flying down. If you'd like to have lunch, we can discuss this in more detail..."

* * *

"Rob! It's good to see you again!" yelled Sheila, running up and hugging the black panther that was a head taller than her, "How was your flight?" she asked warmly.

"Uneventful," he replied, hugging Sheila back.

"How are the kids?" he asked as the separated and started walking out of the airport.

"Harder to keep up with every day," Sheila replied with a smile.

"I'm really glad you decided to have them. You've earned a lot of our respect..." Kelso complimented

"The more I thought about it, the less of a real choice there was," Sheila said shrugging off his compliment modestly.

Kelso smiled softly, "Most things in life are like that..."

They were silent for a moment as they walked through the parking lot to the car provided for Kelso. Sheila had taken a taxi to the airport.

"So how long have you been seeing Longfellow?" Kelso asked, getting right down to business as they entered the car.

"Just a bit over a week," Sheila replied, climbing into the passenger side. She strapped herself into the seat and Kelso started the car, "Why do you ask?

"We can discuss it over lunch," Kelso said solemnly, looking at the road as he pulled out into the parking lot.

* * *

"I pulled Longfellow's file for you," Kelso said to Sheila over the table at the small restaurant they were at. Sheila was wearing a grey sweater and jeans, whilst Kelso was wearing a long sleeved white tee with jeans.

"You have it?" Sheila asked, tilting her head slightly.

Kelso reached into the briefcase beside him and pulled out a manilla folder with a sheaf of papers inside.

"If this is the same person, based on your description, he never got close to Vietnam. He spent a short military life at a supply depot in Okinawa." he said, watching as she opened the folder and looked at all official records of Harvey Longfellow. There was even the small wallet sized picture of him paper clipped to the front.

"He was in for two years before being discharged on raw terms with the army," Kelso continued, "Reports from his C.O. complained about fraternizing aggressively. He was almost sent to the base psychologist."

Sheila glanced at all the papers inside the manilla folder, including a copy of his Birth Certificate, Drivers License, and Diploma. She threw down the papers, disgusted.

"Dammit..." she said angrily, "That son of a bitch... What does he gain by lying to me about Jim?"

"I can only speculate," said Kelso calmly, "If he destroys the memories of your husband, he has an easier time filling in. One from of predation is to wound and wait..."

* * *

Sheila drove to the school and walked into the front office of the school right after they finished lunch. Kelso had taken his car and was on his way to his meeting, but Sheila had called a cab and come directly to the school. The door to the office shut behind her with a sharp CLICK!

She walked past the front desk, walking directly towards Harvey's office. The lady at the front desk looked up from her book sharply.

"Oh! Uh... Ms. Black! Can I help you with anything?" she said nervosely.

"Nope." Sheila replied flatly.

She kept walking for his office and the lady started leaning back in her chair, trying to stop her.

"Er... You can't go in there! He's meeting with the superintendent!" she called frantically.

"Watch me." Sheila said, not even taking her eyes off the door.

WHAM!

The door slammed against the wall as Sheila burst in. There were two people in the room, one was Harvey, who was leaning back in his chair, facing toward the other person. The other person was a pretty tan colored cat, who was wearing a green tee shirt and was kneeling down in front of Harvey. Her hand was in his crotch.

They were both looking at the beautiful demoness standing before them with wide, scared eyes.

Sheila pointed right at the pretty cat and yelled at her, "If you're not the superintendent, then get the FUCK out!"

The woman got off her knees and cowered back against the corner behind her. Mr. Longfellow turned and put his elbow on the desk, his hand on his forehead and his eyes closed in embarrassment.

"Jesus, Sheila, this is NOT how it looks—"

"I don't care. We're through," Sheila said angrily, her arms crossed.

They stood there a moment, Mr. Longfellow gaping like a fish out of water.

"What?" he finally said.

Sheila lost her cool and slammed both her hands down on his desk, her ears turned back in anger.

"Okinawa!? A goddamned supply depot!? You LIED to me!" she yelled at him.

Harvey looked like he had been slapped, and was silent a moment.

"What?" he yelled back, "Who said that?"

"Don't even!" Sheila growled at him, taking one hand off the desk and putting it on her hip, "Don't fucking lie again!"

"I KNOW my damned sources!" she bellowed at him, pointing at him as she leaned up right into his face, "I don't know what you were thinking, but don't you DARE talk that kind of shit about Jim again! DON'T call me! Don't come NEAR me! And stay away from my kittens!"

She spun around and stalked out of the room angrily, glaring at the lady at the front desk menacingly.

* * *

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!

There was a loud knocking from the door, causing Sheila to get up from her bed. She was wearing her nightgown and was carrying the magazine she had been reading in her paw. The person pounded on the door again, harder than before.

"The hell..." Sheila thought tiredly.

She looked out the window, and saw Mr. Longfellow standing outside the door. He saw her through the window.

"Sheila, I really need to talk to you. Please let me in..."

Sheila 'tsk'ed when she heard who it was, "Oh lord,"

* * *

Lucy woke with a start, sitting up. She glanced over at her clock. It was 12 at night. Upon further listening, she realized that the reason she woke up was raised voices from downstairs. She recognized her mothers voice and Principal Longfellow's voice. She couldn't quite make out what they were saying, though.

She got out of bed, unable to fall back asleep, and left her room, heading for the landing of the stairs so she could listen.

When she got there, she found Fisk already kneeling at the corner, sitting and listening.

"Fisk?" she asked tiredly, "What's going on?"

"Mom's having a fight with principal Longfellow," he replied quietly.

"Sheila... look at me..." they heard Longfellow say.

"No, Harve, not this time. You have to leave..."

* * *

"Sheila," Harvey said, grabbing her arms pleadingly, "Don't do this to me. You're the most beautiful woman I've ever met..."

Sheila had stiffened when he grabbed her, and she got angry, "LET GO!" she screamed.

"Sheila!" Harvey pleaded.

Sheila yanked one of her arms free and clawed Harvey Longfellow across the face, "I said—"

Harvey had been stunned when she clawed him, but now he was mad.

"God-dammit!" he yelled slapping Sheila loudly across the face, "DON'T make me get ROUGH!"

Sheila screamed as she fell backwards to the couch.

"Maybe that's how you wan—" he was interrupted by Sheila screaming in fear.

"Fisk!" Lucy whispered, frightened, "We need to call the police!"

She looked beside her and found Fisk gone. Where had he gone!?

"Police!?" she heard loudly from behind her, "MYASS!"

She saw Fisk running past her, carrying his wooden baseball bat in his paws. He raced down the stairs.

Harvey Longfellow brought his claw up to Sheila's face and extended his claws. "If you start to scream, you can say goodbye to this gorgeous face..." he panted lowly.

"Oh... God no..." Sheila whispered, tears running down her face as she felt his hand working free the belt of her nightgown.

"Nng... Your as delightful huff taken as most are willing..."

SMACK!

There was a sharp pain in the side of Harvey's face and his head snapped to the side. He looked around dizzily, looking around for the source of the mind numbing pain dazed, a dark splotch already covering his right eye.

"Whuu..." he mumbled, and turned to see Fisk letting out a battle cry, swinging a bat like a pro.

SMACK!

The bat connected with Harvey's face loudly, some of the bones giving way. Harvey fell backwards in pain, blood spewing from his mouth, staining the carpet under him. Fisk was standing above him, shadows hiding his face, holding the bat at ready. Sheila watched the whole thing curled up on the couch, tears streaming from her wide eyes.

* * *

Red and blue lights flooding the side of the house, flashing from one to the other in a hypnotizing pattern. A female paramedic in a green uniform stood outside the door, reading something on a small, yellow-paged notebook she had in hand. Another parametric wheeled a fold-up gurney through the open door, only looking up to speak briefly to the female.

"Broken jaw and nose," he said professionally, "Mild concussion. He'll live."

"Thanks Bill," said the female, scribbling something onto the pad.

Inside that door, in the far corner, Fisk and Lucy sat huddled together. Fisk still had his bat in hand, glaring around the room protectively, his arm around his sister protectively. The dried blood on the bat stood as a warning to anybody who got too close.

"The mother's going to the hospital in my car, you got enough room in yours for the kids?" asked a voice from outside the room.

"Sure thing," another voice replied.

A leopard entered the room and smiled kindly at Fisk, stopping out of range of the bat. Fisk looked at him a second and lowered the bat, allowing the leopard to approach. He kneeled beside him, but not too close, and looked at Fisk piteously.

"Hey Fisk." he said compassionately, ignoring Fisk's defiant glare, "You did a good job buddy. We've got to get you kittens to the hospital."

"Okay," Fisk replied curtly, still glaring.

"I want you to give this to your mother," the leopard said, pulling a card from his pocket and holding it out to Fisk, "It's the card of someone you should see."

Fisk took his arm from around Lucy and took the card.

"Come on," the leopard said, standing, "We've got to get you kittens to the hospital."

* * *

A grey and black striped cat with black hair lay on a hospital bed, his face held in place by bandages and braces. His left eye was swollen shut and seeming to glow green and yellow through his fur. His right hand was handcuffed to the bed, keeping him from leaving.

A short, skinny, light grey mouse in a suit and hospital coat entered, a clipboard stacked with papers in his hand. He walked quickly to the side of the bed, and clasped his arms behind his back, smiling.

"You're healing well, Mr. Longfellow. You'll be ready for surgery in a few days."

Mr. Longfellow glared up at him, his ears back and not moving his head. He grunted to show he heard. The mouse didn't take offense, and walked out of the room smiling. When he got to the door, he turned back to the patient and pointed his clipboard at him.

"Get some rest," he said, opening the door, "The nurse will be with you in an hour with your feed tube."

He walked out the door, his smile instantly dropping, shaking his head in disgust with what he had to deal with. He shut the door with a click and looked up, stiffening for an instant when he saw a trio of people in medical coats sitting in chairs just outside.

He shuffled over, and put his free hand in his pocket, not making any more eye contact.

"How is our patient, doctor?" asked the tall black panther evenly.

"He's all yours," said the mouse, starting to walk away, "I'll start the paperwork."

* * *

"Rise and shine, Mr. Longfellow..." said a deep and calm, yet powerful, voice.

Harvey opened his eyes and grunted questioningly. He saw a whistling hyena opening a bag and a sour looking older mouse on either side of him, and a tall, burly panther at the foot of his bed, popping his knuckles.

"Your surgery has been pushed ahead of schedule..." the speaker, the panther, said, eyeing him strangely...

* * *

Sheila Black sat in front of a clean and neat hardwood desk, watching the chubby grey rat in front of her as he cleaned his small round glasses with a rag he had pulled from his pocket.

"Ms. Black, the DA of Cobb County intends to gat a conviction, and ensure that mistah Longfellow serves long, hard time." he had a southern accent and bobbed his head as he spoke.

"I think our medical evidence will be enough," he said, looking Sheila in the eye and laying his cleaned glasses on the desk, "I wouldn't worry about you or Fisk needin' to test-"

He was interrupted by the phone, which rang shrilly from the corner of his desk.

"Excuse me," he said, apologetically, picking up the phone.

"Baumgardener's office. Mm-hmm... Yes... What? You're kidding... Alright. Thank you."

He set the receiver back onto the stand and sighed.

"Well, we're going to be fortunate enough not to need a trial..." he trailed off apologetically.

Sheila looked up at him sharply.

"How?" she asked, almost desperate.

The rat brought his hands together and rested his chin on them, leaning on his desk.

"Longfellow died." he said bluntly, "Meningitis contracted during reconstruction surgery..."

Sheila stared down at his desk for a while, her face oddly calm as she let this sink in.

* * *

"Fisk, you are here because what you saw, and what you did, can place a very large, emotional weight on a growing child's mind."

Fisk was in a yellow-tinted room with no windows and all kinds of certificates hanging from the wall. He and a thin, emotionless looking fox sat at a dull, square wooden table. The Fox was dressed in a professional grey suit, her grey-striped hair hanging behind her head freely. There was a small notebook in one of her hands, and a golf pencil poised at the ready in the other.

"We can't help you work past it if you stay closed up..." the fox said encouragingly.

Fisk stared at the patterns in the grain for a minute in silence, the only noise being the ticking of the clock above the door. His eyes slowly slid up to look at her, then he sighed softly.

"You really want to know how I feel?" he asked quietly, almost sounding afraid to break the silence.

"I didn't freeze, or pause," he said, his voice still quiet, "I just let my brain and body do what I wanted. When the bat connected with his head, it felt good."

His voice was growing louder and he was straightening as he spoke.

"I took control of a wild situation, and it was right." he said forcefully, "Adults are always telling me that violence solves nothing..." he realized what he was saying, but there was no stopping the flow as it burst forth.

"Well, life's not so simple. My mother tells me it's important to be a man. Sometimes that means standing up for what's right, and that can be violent. So I realize being a man isn't about moving strength, its about judgement, and how to act toward each situation..." he leaned over the table, staring at a knot in the grain as he unloaded his burden.

"Principal Longfellow is dead," he said emotionlessly, "I know inside I'm supposed to feel bad, but I don't. I feel nothing. I just hope my feelings don't mean I'm going to be in trouble."

He leaned back in his chair and stared at his hands, which were clasped together in his lap. The fox, who had been scribbling on the pad, smiled and nodded approvingly at the picture of money falling around a money symbol that she had drawn.

* * *

Sorry for the long wait, but I'm taking some hard classes in school, and I just don't have the time to do this much anymore. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and I would like you to know that I agree fully with what Fisk said in his 'therapy' session (I never even noticed that the fox had been drawing until I looked for this project 'o mine). Thank you for reading, and I hope I get time for this more often.

DisturbedFire out.


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